


I Can Tell (That We Are Going To Be Friends)

by blondsak, seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (in which seeksak try to give him one), @marvel could NEVER, Flash Thompson Redemption, Flash doesn’t need a redemption he just needs a chance, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Road Trips, but also a good friend, defenestrating canon as per usual, flash thompson is a good bro, in the most literal sense of the phrase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: “Are you okay?” Flash asks, concern creeping up. “Cause you don’t look so–”“I didn’t do it,” Peter interrupts, walking up to Flash and gripping him by the shoulders, shaking him a bit. “You gotta believe me, Flash. I didn’t kill him!”“Woah, Peter, it’s okay,” Flash says, gently gripping Peter’s forearms and lowering them. “I know you didn’t kill Mysterio. I mean, you’re weird, yeah, but you’re not amurderer.”He pauses. “So what are you gonna do?”Peter opens his mouth to respond, only to close it again. In response Flash just groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.“You don’t have a plan, do you,” he says, and it’s not a question.Or: There’s not much Flash Thompson wouldn’t do to help Spider-Man, if given the chance. But he’s a little surprised to find out that there’s not much he wouldn’t do to help Peter Parker too.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Flash Thompson
Comments: 123
Kudos: 340





	I Can Tell (That We Are Going To Be Friends)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grace_d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grace_d/gifts).



> Happy birthday to our darling Grace! We love you so much and hope you enjoy Peter and Flash finding the friendship they deserve <3

“What the _fuck?”_

Flash stares down at his phone in utter denial. 

It’s been a week since they got back from their near-disastrous trip to Europe. Flash is alone at Midtown, having snuck into Mr. Cobbwell’s chemistry classroom, trying for the two-dozenth time to replicate Spider-Man’s webbing. 

He knows he’s close to getting it just right. But even as the orange liquid starts to fizz over the top of the beaker, Flash doesn’t react, still staring down at his phone with wide eyes as alert after alert pops up.

It can’t be real. He’s dreaming, or he’s been knocked out again, or hell—maybe there was another alien invasion and they took over his mind. All of that is more likely than what he’s seeing on his phone screen.

“Peter can’t be Spider-Man,” he says to himself, before opening his Instagram and Twitter accounts, reading through the hundreds of messages he’s received in just the last ten minutes. “No way is _Peter freaking Parker_ Spider-Man.”

But... it could be true, couldn’t it? After all, Peter _was_ in Washington DC, and not in the elevator. And Liz said he was at the homecoming dance before he ran off, which was right before Spider-Man stole and crashed Flash’s first car. Not to mention Peter was in Europe, only to disappear _again_ before they even left for London.

But Peter wouldn’t have killed someone in cold blood, Flash knows. He got away with a lot of shit in Flash’s opinion, but there was _no way_ he was capable of that. 

Yet it could be Jameson just had that fact wrong but everything else right, couldn’t it? Flash pauses the Bugle’s video just as a dorky school photo of Peter pops up. 

_Oh god, what if it’s true?_

Flash groans, looking up at the ceiling as he bemoans his fate.

If it was true, no way will Spider-Man— _Peter_ —ever let Flash be his Guy in the Chair now, not after all the times Flash had gone out of his way to try to humiliate him.

Flash bites his lip, trying to think. Maybe he could make up for it somehow? Offer to write all of Peter’s English essays maybe? It was the one subject Peter didn’t seem to be a total genius at, after all. Or throw a big party in his honor? 

There had to be _something_ Flash could do to make things up to him. 

And it wasn’t like Flash hadn’t been trying to be nicer lately to the kid. He’d complimented his glasses on the bus, hadn’t he? Peter seemed kind of distracted at the time, but surely he’d noticed Flash had been trying not to be a jerk recently, right? _Right?_

Just then Flash hears the sounds of footsteps racing down the hallway through the propped classroom door. He quietly steps over, peeking out just in time to see Peter Parker lift up an entire _wall of lockers_ with just one arm while he pulls out a backpack with his other.

“Oh my god, it _is_ true!” Flash exclaims before he can help himself, stepping out of the classroom and into the hallway just as Peter jumps, dropping the lockers and twisting around to stare at him with wide eyes. “You’re Spider-Man!”

Peter looks disheveled, face pale and breathing hard as he continues to just stare at Flash. “I—I gotta…”

“Are you okay?” Flash asks, feeling concern creeping up. “Cause you don’t look so–”

“I didn’t do it,” Peter interrupts, walking up to Flash and gripping him by the shoulders, shaking him a bit. “You gotta believe me, Flash. I didn’t kill him!”

“Woah, Peter, it’s okay,” Flash says, gently gripping Peter’s forearms and lowering them. “I know you didn’t kill Mysterio. I mean, you’re weird, yeah, but you’re not a _murderer.”_

Peter nods but doesn’t seem any less calm or reassured. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists in his hair, breaths coming short and fast.

“What are you doing here? And what’s in the backpack?” Flash asks, trying to distract him. Lucas sometimes had panic attacks, and Flash was by now far more familiar with handling them than he’d like to be. Peter was showing all the signs of an impending one. 

Peter opens his eyes, before lowering his hands from his head to clench around the backpack straps instead. “It’s just some extra stuff I keep here. Extra clothes, stuff like that. I didn’t ever think I’d need it for this, but–”

“What do you mean, _this?”_ Flash interjects.

“I mean, like, to leave town,” Peter says, glancing up and down the empty hallway nervously before focusing on Flash again. “Running away.”

Flash cocks his head, playing dumb. “Why?”

Peter gives him a _duh_ look, and Flash knows then his distraction technique worked. Panic attack successfully evaded, for now.

“They accused me of _killing_ someone, man. They’re not exactly gonna throw me a parade, y’know?”

Flash nods. “So where are you gonna go?”

Peter opens his mouth to respond, only to close it again. 

“You don’t have a plan, do you,” Flash says, and it’s not a question.

After a few moments Peter shakes his head, biting his lip as he looks away. His eyes gather tears and he swipes at them viciously. “I don’t. I have no fucking idea what to do. I just know I can’t stay in the city, not until I can prove I didn’t murder Beck.”

“You were close with Tony Stark, right?” Flash asks. “Maybe there’s like, a private villa or a safe house of his you could go to, or something?”

Peter sniffles, wiping his eyes one more time before looking back up at Flash. “He had a cabin upstate that was in the middle of nowhere, but Miss Potts and her daughter still live there. I don’t wanna bring them into this.”

“I get it,” Flash says. “Anywhere else? What about the Avengers compound? They rebuilt it after the fight with Thanos, didn’t they?”

Peter takes a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he considers. “They’re still rebuilding it, I think. But Happy told me a few weeks ago that the main building is finished…”

“Well, there you go,” Flash says, clapping Peter on the arm. “I’m sure the Avengers will help you. Since you’ve worked with them and all.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sounding uncertain. Then more confidently, “Yeah. Colonel Rhodes is there, and he’d definitely help me even if nobody else there wanted to.”

“Okay, well, now you got a plan,” Flash says with a grin, Peter giving him a small smile back.

“But I still don’t have a way to get there. Happy might have taken me, but I ditched my phone when I changed out of the suit,” Peter says, frowning again.

Flash doesn’t even have to think about it. “I’ll drive you.”

Peter glances up at him, looking confused and hopeful all at once. “You will? Really? It’s um, it’s probably dangerous—helping me, I mean. There’s probably like, a warrant out for my arrest by now.”

Flash shrugs. “You didn’t do it, right? That’s all I need to know, dude.”

Peter smiles, looking more relaxed than he has the entire conversation. His voice is practically dripping with sincerity and gratitude when he says quietly, “Thanks, Flash. That means a lot to me.”

Flash shrugs again, feeling a bit too seen for his comfort levels. “Whatever, Parker. Just let me grab my stuff and we can head out.”

* * *

The hardest part at first was deciding how to conceal Peter’s identity from other car passengers. 

“I’m telling you, you should lie down in the back with a blanket over yourself,” Flash says for the third time just as they get in his Audi. The car—a replacement for the one Peter had crashed—had been a gift from his dad for his birthday, nevermind that he was on a business trips at the time. It had been left to the local dealership owner to have it ready in their driveway by the time Flash woke up that morning.

At least Lucas had gotten a huge kick out of the big red bow on top of the hood when he texted the kid a picture, Flash thinks to himself with a wan smile.

Peter doesn’t reply, just pulls out some sunglasses from his backpack and puts them on. “These’ll work, don’t you think?” He flashes an over-the-top smile, raising his eyebrows as if that will somehow help sell it.

Flash just rolls his eyes, popping the trunk and getting out. He comes back with a baseball hat, closing the driver’s side door and handing it to Peter. “Here, wear this too. Since you _insist_ on sitting up front.”

Peter eyes the sun-faded hat before taking it from Flash and dutifully putting it on. “Didn’t know you were a Phillies fan.”

“I’m not,” Flash murmurs, and it’s the truth. The hat is Lucas’s, one that mostly gets used at games or when Flash takes him to the beach.

Even through the sunglasses he can feel Peter’s curious eyes on him. Quickly he turns on the ignition, twisting the volume dial on the music—creating an invisible barrier to any personal questions.

They don’t speak at all for the next half hour as Flash drives them out of the city. Soon enough they’re on I-87—Flash grateful that for once there doesn’t seem to be much weekend traffic. 

As he drives, Flash steals a few glances at Peter every so often. He seems more relaxed than he’s been since Flash caught him lifting the lockers—staring out his window thoughtfully. He still twists his hands together every so often, but overall he’s doing much better than he had been when Flash talked him off the panic attack ledge back at Midtown.

A dinging sound suddenly steals both their attention, Flash looking at the dash to see that he’s low on gas. 

“Guess we’ll have to make a pitstop,” he says to Peter, who bites his lip nervously but nods in agreement all the same. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”

He pulls off at the next exit, following signs toward a Sunoco. It’s not too busy, thankfully—just a van and a truck filling up. Flash pulls them up to one of the furthermost fueling stations before turning to Peter. “You want anything? I think I might buy some jerky.”

“Maybe a sandwich?” Peter asks. He instinctively pats at his jeans before realizing he doesn’t have his wallet. “Actually, don’t worry about it—I’m good.”

“I think I can afford a sandwich, Parker,” Flash says, rolling his eyes teasingly before winking at Peter with a smile.

“Seriously, man, I don’t want–”

“Peter,” Flash says flatly, smile gone and replaced with a long-suffering stare. “Just let me buy you a damn sandwich. Okay?”

Peter chuckles, nodding. “Okay. Thanks, man.”

Flash nods back before getting out of the car. He fills up the tank and heads inside the gas shop. The only other customers are a woman and her son. The kid is a few years younger than Lucas, and his eyes are glued to the screen of a television that rests behind the cashier’s area.

Flash glances up just long enough to see the channels is playing the news—quickly averting his eyes when that same school picture he’d seen earlier of Peter pops up on screen, the ticker below reading _SPIDER-MAN’S IDENTITY EXPOSED! FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SUPERHERO OR KILLER ON THE LOOSE?_

He doesn’t waste much time after that, grabbing a few water bottles, a pack of jerky and a pre-wrapped turkey sandwich before getting in line behind the woman and her kid just as the two of them take their plastic bags from the cashier and leave the shop.

Flash barely says a word to the gas station employee, keeping his head down as he pays and taking the bag with a murmured “thanks” before heading back out into the sunny day. He’s only taken two steps when he hears it.

“Mom, look! It’s Spider-Man!”

Flash whips his head up to see the boy and his mother standing by the van, the mom not even looking toward where the boy is pointing—which is at Flash’s car. 

Even from here Flash can see that Peter’s head is laid against the window, eyes closed. He can only assume Peter fell asleep and the sunglasses became askew, falling off and leaving his facial features plastered against the glass for the whole freakin’ _world_ to see.

“Shit, shit, shit–” 

Flash sets out for the car at a dead run even as the boy keeps pulling on his mom’s sleeve, trying to get her to look.

As his feet fly across the hot pavement, Flash presses the button to unlock the car doors, sliding in quickly and tossing the plastic bags on the floor at Peter’s feet even as he yells, “Damn it, Parker, wake up!”

Peter’s eyes squint open, turning to face Flash. “Wha’s–”

He’s cut off when Flash puts the car into gear and whips out of the station parking lot.

“Your sunglasses came off, dumbass. That kid back there recognized you!”

Peter’s eyes go wide, feeling at his face only to realize belatedly no glasses rest on his nose. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit–”

Peter fumbles around between his seat and the passenger side door before his hand reappears with the sunglasses, quickly sliding them back on. He turns back to Flash just as they pull onto the highway. “Did he tell anyone? Or did anyone else–”

“He was trying to get his mom to look over, but I don’t know if she saw you or not,” Flash replies honestly, heart hammering in his chest. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to—knowing him and Peter are likely thinking the same thing. If the kid’s mom saw Peter’s face and reported them, there’s no way they’ll make it to the compound before they’re caught. Not with over 150 miles left to go.

“I uh,” Peter starts to say a few seconds later, before clearing his throat and trying again. “I think that idea you had about hiding under the blanket was a good one, actually. So, yeah. I think I’m gonna do that now.”

“Smart thinking, genius,” Flash snarks, but there’s no heat to it. 

He keeps a careful eye on the road as Peter climbs into the backseat and lies down with the blanket Flash keeps back there for when Lucas gets tired.

“You’re gonna be good to keep driving?” Peter asks him, Flash catching his eye in the rear-view mirror.

“I’ll be fine, dude,” Flash softly replies, seeing true concern in Peter's gaze. _Jeez_ , he thinks. Even when he's freshly accused of being a murderer and on the run, Peter can't seem to help wanting to help. _It’s because he’s Spider-Man_ , Flash thinks before turning his eyes back to the road. It twists something in Flash's gut, but not in a bad way—more in a way that feels understood, and understanding. He fishes out Peter’s sandwich from the bag and tosses it back. “Here, got this for you.”

“Thanks, Flash,” Peter says before his head disappears along with the sandwich under the covering.

Flash makes a big show about complaining about how loudly Peter chews. But if he’s smiling to himself the entire time, well—not like Parker can see it, anyway.

* * *

Flash’s hands grip the steering wheel as they make their way down the road, grinding his teeth when he hears Peter sigh for the third time in as many minutes.

“What?” Flash asks, glancing at Peter through his reflection in the rearview mirror. Peter’s still slumped in the backseat, the blanket half over him but ducked down enough that passing cars wouldn’t be able to see him. The problem is that there’s been no cars around them for miles, the interstate they’re on stretching out into emptiness with only one or two passing them for the past hour they’ve been on the road. 

“Can’t we go any faster?” Peter huffs out, Flash seeing the way Peter’s eyes shift out to the empty road in front of them before pointedly looking out the window. Flash flexes his fingers along the steering wheel, sitting up a little straighter as he faces forward and says, “We’re going like ten over the speed limit already.”

“There’s no one around,” Peter says, sitting up slightly before glancing out the back window. Flash feels a spike of nervousness at Peter doing so, rationally understanding that there’s no cars around them to spot him but feeling a sense of protectiveness that he can’t really explain anyway. 

“Yeah, but there could be. I don’t know where I’m going,” Flash says, looking around. It’s empty road in front of them and behind them but Flash can see several big billboards still off to the side, anxiety rolling around in his gut at the possibility of there being a speed trap coming up. Or worse. 

He instinctively slows down at that, turning off cruise control and stepping lightly on the brakes. Peter immediately senses the change and groans, Flash sparing him a glance before putting his eyes back on the road as Peter says, “Dude come on.”

“I’m not going any faster,” Flash says more definitively, a heat building in the back of his neck from the frustration he can feel emanating from Peter in the backseat. 

“Are you serious?” Peter asks, Flash feeling the spike of annoyance in his tone wash over him as Peter sits up even more, leaning forward over the middle console. “Dude.”

“I’m not going any faster,” Flash repeats, seeing Peter’s eyes roll out of the corner of his own and hearing him mutter something indecipherable under his breath.

“What’d you say?” he asks, looking to Peter only to see the same annoyed look on his face that he usually sees from AcaDec members when he says something stupid written all over Peter’s face as he presses his lips together.

“I said I _thought_ you wanted to help me,” Peter says, Flash glancing back to the road before looking back to Peter and saying through gritted teeth, “I _am_ helping you.”

“Someone could be following us. What if that kid’s mom actually believed him and she called the cops?” Peter starts to ramble, Flash’s anxiety starting to flare up as they pass the first billboard - ratcheting up in intensity as Peter continues. “I don’t get you, man. You said you wanted to help, you bought me a sandwich and was okay with driving me to the compound but now you won’t--”

“What? Speed through upstate New York? I’m going as fast as I can,” Flash spits back, the same frustration that he always used to feel around Peter coming back in full force. 

Only this time Peter doesn’t respond the same way that he used to, back before the Blip. Peter back then would’ve just ignored him, side step the conversation and move on. Peter now just glares at him, gritting his teeth before saying, “No you’re not. You’re going even _slower_ than you were before.”

“I’m not gonna get us in a car accident before we get there,” Flash says, Peter moving so that he’s more parallel to him as he says, “But what if someone stops--”

“Stop talking about the cops!” Flash exclaims, surprising Peter but mostly himself with how forceful he is - shooting a glance to him before putting his eyes to the road and leaning forward even more so. 

Flash feels like he’s holding his breath right up until they _finally_ pass the last billboard, the tension leaving his shoulders slightly when he sees that no one’s there. Flash exhales, Peter sitting back from where he’d situated himself. 

The silence is so thick in the air that Flash could almost taste it, keeping his eyes on the road until Peter finally says, “Sorry. I didn’t--”

“It’s fine,” Flash says, because of course it is. Peter may be terrified of the cops right now but Flash knows how Spider-Man and the cops got along before all of this. He couldn’t possibly know how terrifying it was to drive down the street, _any_ street and wonder if that was gonna be the day some guy with a badge and an overblown bully complex was going to make his life hell. 

Besides, Flash reasoned - it’s not as if in this situation, he could try and call his dad and get them out of it. Him driving an expensive car was already a red flag to most cops. Him driving an expensive car with a superhero accused of _murder_ wouldn’t turn out well for him, no matter how Flash spun it. 

“It’s not,” he hears Peter say, everything in Flash wanting to just ignore him and wait for all of it to pass over before he finally breaks, glancing at Peter through the rearview mirror and seeing the apologetic expression on his face. 

“I’m sorry, man. Really.” 

Flash holds his gaze for a beat before nodding once, not trusting himself to say anything more - less because of any insult and more from how much he’s still shaking on the inside. 

The anxiety that he’d thought he’d successfully staved off is still running like a current through his veins, his leg bobbing up and down as he continues to drive down the road at the same speed they were before. 

If Peter notices the lack of change, he says nothing - the two of them sitting in an awkward, tense silence as the miles continue to spread out before them. 

* * *

It’s not until another hour passes, when Flash’s neck is starting to ache from how tense he’s been that he finally hears another sound in the backseat - glancing to the rearview mirror and seeing Peter asleep. His mouth is slightly open and his head is resting right beneath the door handle, face thankfully mostly hidden from sight.

Flash snorts out a laugh, only to sober up when he looks back out to the road in front of them, wondering how the hell the two of them got here. 

It’s disorienting to say the least, to think of Peter and Spider-Man as one in the same. It doesn’t make sense, yet considering the evidence also makes a _surprising_ amount of sense too. After all, Peter hadn’t so much as blinked when Flash would say something stupid or mean the entire trip in Europe. Hadn’t even really noticed when he’d tried to be nice to him either, which makes a hell of a lot more sense if he was dealing with Mysterio at the same time.

Flash sighs, wondering how he could’ve possibly missed the truth of who Spider-Man was only to recognize that maybe that was the point. It’s not as if Flash didn’t know that Spider-Man wasn’t perfect—he’d shared too many Spider-Man fail compilation videos to think anything different—but it’s profoundly _weird_ to think that it was Peter underneath the mask the whole time, much less grappling with the reality that Spider-Man is a real person to begin with. 

The thought reminds him that for all Flash knows of Spider-Man, and up until today he thought he knew _everything_ , he was surprised by how quickly Peter relented about being followed by the cops - a knowing expression in Peter’s eyes that Flash felt incredibly thankful for that he didn’t have to explain. Still, there’s a part of him that wishes now that he had taken the time to explain when the opportunity had arisen. 

Before today, Spider-Man was a being Flash had tended all too easily to think of, as he did all superheroes, as someone otherworldly - literally in the case of Thor but also metaphorically, the _Avengers_ being even better than celebrities in Flash’s world. And while it’s true that Spider-Man was - _is_ \- Flash’s hero and the one superhero who’s always looking out for the neighborhood and who makes him feel less alone, it’s also clear from their tense conversation an hour ago that even superheroes as “on the ground” as Spider-Man needed a reality check - a more cynical part of Flash wondering if maybe MJ or Ned had ever talked to him about that. 

Regardless, it rubs at something in Flash - the idea that his favorite superhero wasn’t just imperfect, but was a kid. That Spider-Man was someone that he knew. That Spider-Man was, of all people, _Peter Parker_.

It occurs to Flash that for all his time following Spider-Man’s every movement, wondering who he was—that he’d never once thought maybe _he_ had wisdom to give Spider-Man, the same way the person he had always imagined Spider-Man to be underneath the mask had been an inspiration to him. _Huh._

Peter’s snores bring him out of his thoughts, enough for Flash to roll his eyes before forcing his attention back to the road, feeling slightly more relaxed but ever-vigilant - driving steadily to the compound in silence. 

* * *

They’re seven miles from their destination when things nearly go to hell again.

Flash is driving along—relieved they’re off the interstate and now on a back two-lane highway—when suddenly there’s a sound like a small bomb going off right under his feet.

He shouts even as he recognizes immediately what likely happened, taking deep breaths and forcing himself not to hit the brakes but rather let the car slowly roll to a rocking stop along the side of the road. The anxiety that had gone quiet comes roaring back to life, fingers tightly gripping the steering wheel. As soon as the vehicle quits moving he looks behind him to check on Peter, who is sitting up in his seat—the blanket now pooled around his lap—and staring back at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” Flash asks.

“Yeah,” Peter says, though he still looks slightly out of it and disoriented. “What happened?”

“I think one of my tires blew out,” Flash says as he gets out of the car. It only takes one glance at his front driver’s side to confirm as much. “Damn it! And we’re so close.”

He hears Peter scramble out from behind him, also taking a look. “Do you have a spare in your trunk. Maybe we–”

“I do, but it would take me at least twenty minutes to change and…” Flash trails off, looking up and down the road before turning to look at Peter again. “I don’t like the idea of being out here that long. What if someone drives by and decides to stop and see if we need help? We’d be sitting ducks.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, looking up and down the highway too before he turns and stares past the ditch and into the trees. “Your phone still has a signal out here, right? Can I see where we are?”

Flash hands over his cell, Peter taking a look at the map before nodding to himself. “What if we use the GPS to hike the rest of the way through the woods? It’s only four-point-four miles, and I’m almost positive the Avengers own all the acreage west of this road, so we wouldn’t be trespassing.”

Flash makes a face, looking down regretfully at his pair of luxury Golden Goose sneakers. He can’t say he really cares for the idea of leaving his car behind and trudging through muddy backwoods but then, it’s not like he has a better idea. “Yeah, alright.”

They make quick work of gathering everything they need from the car—Flash feeling very glad now he had the foresight to buy the water bottles at the gas station—before the two head out. 

It isn’t long into the journey before Flash is gross and sweaty. It’s nearly three, and while the sun isn’t directly overhead, it’s still a ridiculously hot, humid afternoon.

They hike in silence for the first few miles, Peter seemingly lost in his thoughts while he keeps an eye on the map, and Flash wondering just what will happen once they arrive at the compound. He can tell Peter is nervous about what kind of welcome he’ll receive, but Flash personally can’t see it being a bad one. If the Avengers have met Peter—not Spider-Man, but _Peter_ —then it’s simply unfathomable to him that they’d believe the lies Jameson was spewing. 

“Here.”

Flash is torn from his thoughts to look at Peter, who he sees is holding out Lucas’s Phillies hat toward him. “What?”

“You should wear this,” Peter says, shaking the hat at him. “I got the sunglasses still, and–”

“Nah,” Flash says, waving him off. “You need it more than I do, what with your thermoregulation issues and all.”

Peter comes to a standstill, looking shocked. “How do you know about that?”

Flash stops too, giving a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Uh, you do remember who runs all the local Spidey fan accounts?” He motions for Peter to keep going, which Peter does, the two of them walking side by side now. “I must have watched the clip of you passing out mid-swing during that heat wave last summer—or summer of 2017, whatever—a thousand times.”

“Oh god, someone got that on video?” Peter asks, then closing his eyes with a groan, “Of course someone did. It’s the city, who am I kidding myself.” He looks back up at Flash, thrusting out the hat again. “Well, I still think you should wear your hat.”

With a sigh Flash takes the hat, only to whip it up and back on Peter’s head, pulling the bill firmly down so his eyes and nose at least are covered from the sun. “Dude, I told you. You need it more than I do. And anyway, Lucas will be super excited to hear that his old baseball cap helped keep Spider-Man from roasting.”

“Lucas?”

“My little brother. And before you ask, yes he was blipped too. He’s eight.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Peter says softly after a beat, sounding almost embarrassed.

Flash shrugs. “He’s not around very much. Technically he’s my step-brother. He lives most of the time with his dad in Philadelphia. I only get to see him one weekend a month and then every other Christmas break.”

“What’s he like?”

Flash huffs out a fond laugh. “He’s kinda goofy, I guess? Tries to get me to do karaoke duets on Wii with him all the time.” Flash thinks a bit. “Oh, and he decided a few months ago he wanted to be an artist, and since then every time he visits he always wants me to sit for portraits. I have a whole wall of them up in my room now.” Pause. “And when I take him to games at Citi Field, the kid _insists_ on doing that whole swing-batta-batta routine ever since I showed him _The Sandlot._ Which is a great movie, mind you, but not really what I intended him to get out of watching it.”

Peter doesn’t answer for a few moments, long enough that Flash glances over at him, only for Peter’s lips to quirk up when he catches his gaze.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing, man,” Peter says with a faux-casual shrug. “You just—you sound like a really good big brother, that’s all.”

Flash looks ahead. “I try to be,” he says quietly. “I just… I don’t want him to grow up feeling like I did.”

“Like you did?”

Flash shrugs again. “Like—alone.” _Lonely._

“I get that,” Peter says. “I’ve always been kinda jealous of Ned having three siblings.”

Flash can’t help but sneer a bit at that. “Yeah, I don’t think our experiences are exactly comparable, Parker.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Flash shakes his head, wishing he hadn’t said anything. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Ah c’mon, don’t be like that,” Peter says playfully, then when Flash still doesn’t reply, shoulder-checks him. “Just tell me what you mean, dude.”

Flash shakes his head, kicking at a rock. “I _mean_ that my mom lives in Fresno and has since I was six, while my dad is around about as often as Lucas is because of traveling for his job. And my step-mom”—Flash sneers more derisively this time—”even when she _is_ around, she doesn’t seem to care, not enough to pay attention to Lucas and _definitely_ not enough to pay attention to me. At least you have a parent who’s actually around and wants to spend time with you, even if it’s just the two of you.”

Peter doesn’t answer, and after a while Flash risks a wary glance over—feeling certain he’s gone too far, been too honest. He halfway expects Peter to say something mean. After all, a year ago it’s what Flash would have done in his shoes.

But once again Peter just looks lost in thought, if slightly sad. “I’m sorry, Flash,” Peter says eventually, and he really does sound sorry. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I ever told you, or anyone else at school.” He kicks at another rock forlornly. “And besides, it's not a big deal, not compared to all the kids we know who have to worry about where they’re gonna sleep every night, or if there’s gonna be food at home to eat.”

“But it _is_ a big deal, if it makes you feel like nobody cares. And those are the people who should care most. That’s messed up, Flash.”

“I guess,” Flash murmurs, only to let out a slightly manic chuckle. “This is so _weird.”_

“What is?”

“This whole conversation,” Flash says, waving a hand. “Me, talking to you— _Spider-Man_ —about my rich kid trauma or whatever. How aren’t you like—rolling your eyes at me right now? You’ve helped tons of people with far worse problems than parents who aren’t there to make dinner every night.”

“Because you’re my friend,” Peter says, sounding so matter-of-fact that Flash halts, turning to look at him in surprise. Peter gets two steps ahead of him before stopping himself and turning around. “What?”

Flash shrugs. “Nothing, just—I didn’t know you thought of us as friends.”

Peter gives him a small, knowing smile. “Dude, you’re helping me go on the run from the NYPD and god knows who else. If that doesn’t make you my friend, I don’t know what does. Plus you’re now part of FOS too.”

“FOS?”

“Friends of Spider-Man. Ned came up with it last week.”

“Oh.” They keep walking. “Who else is in FOS?”

“Just MJ and Ned. And you, now.”

“Awesome,” Flash says with a grin. “So, uh, is there any chance I can be your Guy in the Chair then? You know like in those spy movies?”

“Sorry man, that’s already Ned’s job,” Peter says, then catching the way Flash’s face falls, adds, “But uh, you’re welcome to be like my Social Media Manager? I mean, you kinda already are by default, but this way it’s more official. If you want to be, that is.”

“No way, seriously?” Flash says, smiling. He holds out his hand to Peter, who shakes it. “It’s a deal, Parker.”

The two of them walk on in silence for another minute, before Peter turns to him with a super serious expression.

“I do have another really important question I have to ask you, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Flash says, biting the inside of his cheek, tensing up. “What’s that?”

“How do you deal with Lucas being a Phillies fan?” Peter asks, Flash laughing and shaking his head with no small amount of regret for his step-brother’s unfortunate choice in baseball teams. “‘Cause I can’t lie, man—wearing this hat feels practically blasphemous. I’m half-worried my Uncle Ben is gonna show up and smite me before the government or whoever even has a shot at taking me down.”

 _“Dude._ The first time I took him to a Mets game and he insisted on sitting behind the visitor’s dugout? I was about ready to disown him right then and there.”

They spend the rest of the hike amicably chatting, and despite the seriousness of the situation—Peter running from the authorities, Flash potentially getting in big trouble for helping him—Flash finds himself feeling more at ease than he has in a long time. 

He never thought he’d meet Spider-Man only to find he’s more interested just to hang out with Peter Parker, of all people. 

It was just another surprise revelation in a day full of them, yet Flash thinks maybe this one was the best.

* * *

Flash is already feeling a little out of breath by the time they make it to the compound. The back of shirt is sticking to him, drenched in sweat from the heat bearing down on them and he’s pretty sure he has a blister from the shoes he’s wearing. But it still takes his breath away when the compound finally comes into view, his eyes widening as they walk up closer to the building that had been looming over them for the past few minutes. 

Peter mentioned that the compound was still being rebuilt but it still takes Flash aback at how _destroyed_ everything around them looks, miles and miles of dirt and wreckage looking as if something had obliterated the world around them. 

_It probably did_ , Flash thinks but doesn’t say - looking to Peter only to see a grim expression on his face as the two of them walk closer and closer. 

Flash has a million questions at the tip of his tongue but for once in his life stays silent. There’s still so much that they don’t know about the fight against Thanos or what exactly the Avengers did, pending “government review”, but what Flash does know for certain is that Iron Man was the one who saved them. 

Flash desperately wants to know what Spider-Man, what _Peter_ , did during it all but holds his tongue - especially for the look in his eyes as they walk towards what Flash can guess is the new entrance. 

There’s no call box or any kind of security from what Flash can tell but even if there was, Flash isn't in any position to complain. If anything, it would only work in their favor for someone to recognize them and get Peter to safety. 

They continue to walk in silence, save for the crunch of gravel beneath their feet when Peter freezes - head snapping up as he looks to the sky.

“What’s wrong?” Flash asks, wondering if maybe all their plans had been for nothing and there was some kind of helicopter hovering over them. He instantly thinks of all the different places that he could hide, drag Peter along and make a run for it only for Peter’s face to break out into a smile. Flash realizes the reason for it a half-second later when he glances up and hears a familiar whooshing sound that he’s only ever heard on television, his eyes widening in disbelief when War Machine flies down and lands a few feet in front of them.

“Colonel Rhodes?” Peter asks, Flash looking from Peter to the War Machine suit - freaking out on the inside when the faceplate opens and it’s none other than _the actual War Machine himself._

“Hey kid,” Flash hears him say, a tired smile on his face as he looks between the two of them. “FRIDAY caught someone on the perimeter. Had a feeling it was you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, suddenly looking conflicted in a way that Flash doesn’t understand. “I’m sorry if--”

“Your aunt’s been kicking up a storm back there,” War Machine says— _Colonel Rhodes,_ Flash corrects himself, “we tried tracking your phone, your girlfriend, Ned, everyone.”

Peter blanches at that, Flash feeling suddenly invisible not for the first time in his life when Peter takes a step forward and says, “Are they okay? MJ told me to leave, I didn’t even think--”

“Everyone’s safe,” Colonel Rhodes says, holding his hands up in a motion that’s clearly meant to calm. “Happy went and picked up your aunt as soon as the news broke and thanks to your friend Ned, we know him and MJ are just fine. Holed up at his house, actually.”

Flash watches as Colonel Rhodes smiles before saying, “Only one we’ve been worried about is you.”

Peter’s shoulders sag in relief, Flash suddenly feeling put on the spot when Colonel Rhodes’ attention shifts from Peter to him - standing up a little straighter when he nods his head towards him and asks Peter, “Who’s this?”

“This is Flash,” Peter says easily. “He drove me here.”

The three of them stare at each other a beat, one of Colonel Rhodes’s eyebrows raising before Peter laughs - sharing a look with Flash as he says, “Well, _almost_.” 

“We blew a tire out, sir. Colonel. Sorry, we--I tried to get him here as fast as I could,” Flash says, feeling tongue tied and more than a little awestruck. The reality that Peter is Spider-Man is still something that he’s having a hard time coming to terms with, made even more so with the reality of having _an actual Avenger_ right in front of him. 

But Colonel Rhodes doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, smiling encouragingly as he says, “You succeeded, kid. Now come on,” he looks to Peter, “May’s waiting for you at the front.” 

* * *

The rest of the walk to the entrance of the compound passes by fairly quickly, Flash staying uncharacteristically silent as Peter and Colonel Rhodes go back and forth. He wasn’t even sure if he was _supposed_ to be overhearing half of what they were saying but Peter didn’t make an effort to stop him and everything from Colonel Rhodes’ body language indicated that if Peter didn’t mind, neither did he. 

Just as Flash suspected, the rumor mill surrounding Peter being Spider-Man was also turning or at the very least was made circumspect, considering the source was some shoddy camera work from the Bugle. Flash already had a million ideas for how he and the Flashmob could help out but he keeps them to himself for now, taking more notice of how Peter looks as he listens to Colonel Rhodes. 

If he had any doubt that Peter is Spider-Man, and he really didn’t considering he saw him lift a _wall of lockers_ hours earlier, he could easily see it now - a shift in Peter’s expression and the way he carried himself as Colonel Rhodes talked with him. 

Flash had always been a little jealous of Peter but this was something else entirely, a part of him wondering what it felt like to not only be taken seriously by the adults in his life but for his opinion to be respected - to be heard in a way that Flash could only dream of being. 

He doesn’t get a lot of time to dwell too much on it because before he knows it, they’re at the front - May Parker bursting through the double doors and making a beeline towards Peter.

“May--”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, what the _hell_?” Flash hears her exclaim, not hesitating to run up and envelop him into her arms - Flash watching as Peter immediately melts into it, burrowing his head into her neck.

“ _Never_ do that again,” she says, Peter nodding solemnly before she hugs him tight once more - something passing between the two of them that Flash could only guess at. 

She sends a thankful glance to Colonel Rhodes before looking curiously to Flash, Peter scratching the back of his neck and motioning towards him before saying, “Flash drove me here.”

Flash feels his mouth go dry, wondering now if Peter had ever mentioned to his aunt how much of a dick he’d been to Peter over the years, only to be thrown completely off guard when May pulls him into a hug too - frozen for a moment before he gently hugs her back. 

May squeezes him just as tightly, a warmth and a sense of longing in his gut when she whispers into his ear, “Thank you.”

Flash murmurs “you’re welcome” just before May releases her grip, smiling at him before turning her attention back to Peter who now that he’s back in the presence of his aunt and his immediate safety is assured, looks a little worried again.

“Are MJ and Ned--”

“Happy’s going into the city now. Come on, inside,” she says, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leading him back toward the front entrance.

Peter barely gets the chance to turn back to Flash, shooting him a grateful smile. “Thanks again, dude. For everything.”

Flash awkwardly waves as he watches Peter disappear with his aunt through the main doors of the lone building, feeling like a weight has been lifted off him. As awesome as this day would likely remain in his memory despite all the obstacles he and Peter encountered, it was still nice to hand off the responsibility of watching after Spider-Man to actual adults.

“So you took Peter all this way? Just you two, in your car?” 

Flash turns back to Colonel Rhodes—freakin’ _War Machine_ —and nods. “Uh, yes sir. We ran into each other at our school and well, I guess I just thought he needed some back-up.”

 _“Back-up_ is a very humble way of saying you saved his ass, kid,” the Colonel says with a laugh, then adds, “and you can call me Rhodey. Everyone here does besides Peter, though that’s not for lack of me trying.”

“Yes, sir—I mean, Rhodey.”

Rhodey shakes his head, still smiling. Then, just as he feared moments earlier with Peter’s aunt, he sees a knowing in Rhodey’s gaze as his curiosity falls away. “So you’re Flash, huh? I’ve heard of you. Tony mentioned you a time or two. You used to give Pete some grief, is that correct?”

Flash bites his lip. God, did all the Avengers know then what a jerk he’s been to Peter before? Had he sealed the fate of any chance he had of befriending them before he even met them? By Rhodey’s response, it seemed likely.

“Yeah, I did,” he says quietly, feeling ashamed and suddenly very tired. “Or I used to. But it’s not like that anymore, and I swear I’m not a bad person, I just–”

“Flash,” Rhodey interrupts, holding up a hand and halting anything else Flash might have said. “Look, if there’s anything I’m an expert in, it’s trusting that people who give me a reason to believe in them—no matter how small—can change. Hell, that was pretty much a prerequisite if you wanted to be Tony Stark’s best friend.” Rhodey’s expression turns somber for a moment, before he kindly smiles again. “All I needed to know about how you treat Peter I learned the moment I saw the way he thanked you just now. Whatever happened in the past, it’s in the past. What matters is you helped him when he needed you most, and that makes you a good friend to Peter _and_ the Avengers in my books.”

He holds out his hand to Flash, who after a beat slowly takes it—Rhodey quick to give him a firm handshake.

“Let’s get inside then—see if we can’t figure out a plan to get your tire fixed so you can head home.”

“And get my hat back from Peter,” Flash adds before he can stop himself. Then feeling the need to explain, “It’s actually my brother’s. He won’t want to take it off now that Spider-Man wore it.”

Rhodey laughs. “And get the hat back. No problem, kid. Hell, the whole team will even sign it if you want us to.”

Flash’s eyes go wide. “Seriously? Lucas would love that!”

“Well then, it’s a plan.”

With that Rhodey lets go of his hand and starts to walk into the compound, Flash quickly shaking himself out of his daze and following. Together the two enter the building, Flash thinking back for the second time that day to how much he’d always admired Spider-Man for being someone close to the ground, for being someone who—even if he still had some things to learn—did everything he could for his neighbors before all else.

Then he thinks of the look on Peter’s face when he’d caught him in Midtown’s hallway, and how different it had been to the one he’d seen just now when Peter saw his aunt. Without Flash, that reunion probably never would have happened, or at least not today. Maybe not for a long time. 

So sure, helping Spider-Man? Being his Guy in—if not the chair then at least the driver’s seat, even if only for a day? There was no doubt that for Flash, It was a dream come true.

But helping Peter Parker? A kid he’d often looked down on, occasionally been jealous of, and nearly always been slightly confounded by? 

Being _that_ Peter Parker’s friend?

Well, Flash can’t help but think that all things considered—that’s the better gig.

**Author's Note:**

> We love it when people scream at us in the comments. Come hang out with blondsak on tumblr: [blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com)


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